God,
please don't take my life now.
I opened my eyes and realized that I was in an all-white room, the ICU of a very familiar hospital. I looked at the shady face of my wife who seemed to have been awake for a very long time.
"Alhamdulillah. Dad is aware. Mom, call the doctor, okay? I
held his hand tighter. He sat back down. His smile widened and his eyes sparkled with happiness.
"Dad fainted yesterday while queuing in front of the BRI ATM," he said softly.
I tried to smile while lifting my head, my wife's hands swiftly adjusted the pillow so that I could lie down comfortably and we could chat more freely.
I am a lucky half-century-old man, blessed with two sons and a daughter from my marriage to Syafitri. My first son is already working, he will soon have a family, he has introduced the name of a girl to us. When we were planning to propose to that girl, I had to be hospitalized again.
My second daughter will soon graduate from vocational school and our last son is still in junior high school but he lives in a dormitory.
For the last three years I have been in and out of hospital because I suffer from hypertension and coronary heart disease. Cardiovascular disorders due to high levels of cholesterol in the blood.
Finally, I even had to be consulted by an internist because the lab results showed that the creatinine level in my blood was getting higher.
Now I am also being treated by two specialist doctors who come in turns. After the internist arrived, my wife was called to appear separately. Before leaving me alone in this room, Syafitri gave me his cellphone.
"Maybe dad wants to talk to someone, so I won't be lonely. Mother stays for a moment, facing Dr. Ishaq..." a kiss landed on the back of my hand. He still stroked my hand before he left.
When I'm alone, all sorts of preconceptions fill my head. If the doctor wants to speak separately with Syafitri, this is a bad feeling. Just as Doctor Tiyo called Syafitri separately, I was then treated by two specialist doctors. Doctor Tiyo and Dr Ishaq visited me in turn. This time, what will happen?
Yaa Rabb,
I remember the mistakes I once made. The habit of smoking, staying up late or working until you forget to eat. Also the habit of consuming herbal medicine is not recommended. As a result, I'm not the only one who now has to feel it. My wife and children are also everyone around me.
I could predict Ishaq's doctor's call. During the last control at the clinic, I heard the white doctor talking to Syafitri.
“The creatinine level has reached 9.3, ma'am. Hemodialysis must be carried out immediately."
I gave up at that time. And I accepted it when Syafitri forbade me from eating at the stall. Then he never cooks pepes jerohan, my favorite. Syafitri also gave me a herbal drink made from boiled breadfruit leaves, alang-alang roots and binahong leaves.
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I also surrendered and just obeyed, every day Syafitri dried me in the sun from 9 to 10 in the morning. My body was wrapped in a raincoat so my sweat was pouring down like rainwater. Although when the sweat started to come out, I felt itching spreading all over my body. It was really torturous. But I still did it, because Syafitri was always there inviting me to chat about the beautiful memories of the past.
In fact, I was willing when Syafitri said, "Starting from today, father's water consumption must be limited, just replace it with this," put down a bottle of purple bottled water whose price was far above the average, "One bottle a day. Efforts to recover my beloved father. And so that the swelling in the legs decreases"
Gradually I felt my body getting fit enough to be able to go back to work. I feel completely healthy. Until yesterday I met an old friend who invited me to our regular stall. I made a mistake. I'm confused.
I immediately removed the layer of glass that was starting to form in my eyes. There were footsteps approaching the door.
When the door opened, my wife's face with her characteristic smile appeared there.
"The doctor said we will immediately move to the observation room and be out of this hospital as soon as possible." he took the tray containing the rations and sat in front of me. He prepared to put food into my mouth. But then his face fell. Not like usual, he fed me while continuing to talk to me. Something must have happened. And a flash of error filled my inner space. I held Syafitri's hand tightly. He placed the tray on the table and then smashed his body against my chest. His hug was so tight. Obscuring my vision. My mind was increasingly filled with sins that I couldn't reveal to him.
And only you,
Lord, if I may ask. Don't take my life. I still want to always hold the hand of the woman beside me.
Short Story Essay: Ikriima Ghaniy
Blog / Facebook: Asmarani Syafira
The short story Don't Take My Life is a short story written by Ikriima Ghaniy , you can visit the author's special page to read his latest short stories.
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